Hay where the caturday at

Now it's my time to shine!

OH THE OATS, THEY BURN

Okay, so this is like, my part of the website. I'm not sure as to what the content should be, so here's an extract from the epic novel I began writing when I was around 15 or 16.

The Great American Novel

It was a time of Eskimos, it was a time of coldness. It was a time of low-cost affordable travel insurance, it was a time of mass rabies outbreaks. Little Chip B. Armstrong Jr, the son of Lieutenant Commander Chip B Armstrong Sr, 3 times captain of the school football and baseball team, set out on his way across the great American Northeast, to find his fortunes.

As he kissed his Mother farewell, he told her to never forget that he was allergic to cancer. She reminded him not to go without saying goodbye to Old Mr. Crannbo, who was the resident old person of the neighbourhood.
"I'll do that as sure as the B in my name stands for Burley, which it does," he said. "And if I or anyone else told you otherwise then they are a liar. LIAR!! ARGHAGAG!"

Little Chip picked up his hobo bindle stick cloth thingy and set off away from the crazy house, where his fictional mother resided. He made his way to Mr Crannbo's, but alack and alas he was nowhere to be seen.
"Aw shoot dang," commented Chip. "I shure as hell wished I coulda said see-ya to Mr Crannbo, even though he was old." But he was already dead.